


You're Paying the Ice Cream

by Sweety_Mutant



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Gaby is badass, M/M, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweety_Mutant/pseuds/Sweety_Mutant
Summary: Napoleon goes white-knighting, and of course it brings trouble.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eorendel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eorendel/gifts).



> Done in answer to this prompt: "Something hilariously fun: They are undercover, surveying the place (a Bank) when they get tangled into a robbery "unfortunately", things get out of control (Napoleon can't just help himself to help others) and thus he's kidnapped as a hostage. Will Illya go after him and blow their covers, or will he trust that Napoleon can get away in time to do their job?"
> 
> It was very fun to write, I hope you like it! :D
> 
> I need to thank [Mad_Amethyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Amethyst/pseuds/Mad_Amethyst) for beta-ing this and bearing with me and my nervousness and my being late!

This mission should have been easy. Gaby swore under her breath, it was routine, dammit!

Their little team had been undercover for a few days, watching a bank in London. Mr. Waverly was suspicious that the owners of the bank were guilty of embezzlement, to fund a criminal organisation. Was there anything easier than watching a bank? Illya had placed bugs while disguised as a telecom worker. For the next three days they had been taking turns, watching the bank through the window of a hotel room on the other side of the street, another listening to the bugs, and the third one sleeping or ready to send any useful information to U.N.C.L.E.’s Analysis centre.

This mission should have been God damn easy.

Gaby had been dozing off on the bed, watching her boys work through half-closed lids. Watching her boys work, Illya hunched over the small desk, listening to the activity inside the bank, Napoleon watching the bank with long range binoculars. Suddenly, both Illya and Napoleon tensed up. Illya was straighter in his chair, a hand on the headphones. Napoleon was leaning forward through the window. In one second, Gaby sprung up from the bed.

“What is it?!”

“Robbery,” answered Illya, laconic.

Napoleon nodded. “Five of them at least. They are armed–”

“They are inside now,” added Illya, cutting him. Napoleon dropped the binoculars. This had nothing to do with their mission. “I hear no shooting, they are–”

“We should do something,” said Napoleon.

“Like what? Call the police?” asked Gaby. “We are supposed to watch, not intervene, and they do not seem violent.”

Mr. Waverly had indeed been very clear. Keeping their cover intact was primordial, since they had no idea who could be guilty, who could be trusted. Were those people really robbers? It could very well be a decoy, a bait… if the bank’s owners were suspicious of something… maybe they could use the robbery as a decoy. Maybe they should call U.N.C.L.E., it would be more prudent…

“I think we–”

Illya raised a hand, shushing her. The room fell silent for a few seconds, Napoleon taking the binoculars off the floor and putting them on the bed. Eventually, Illya said:

“I heard shouts. People screaming. I cannot decipher what the robbers say, the one who speaks had his voice muffled. Still no shooting”

“I thought it might be a plan. If the bank owners wanted to take money and had a hunch they are being watched. It could be used to distract us,” eventually said Gaby.

Napoleon looked restless. Gaby took the binoculars from the bed and sneaked a peek. Nothing could be seen from the outside. Then, out of nowhere, a siren rang and three police cars pulled up, blocking the street. The policemen formed a circle around the bank’s entrance, and one of them, holding a megaphone, ordered the robbers to get out. They obviously refused. Well, distraction or not, those guys knew how to react.

Both Gaby and Napoleon turned their heads towards Illya, awaiting information.

“They are taking people hostage now I think,” said Illya. “They sound angrier and–”

“That’s enough.” Unbeknown to his companions, Napoleon had moved to the back of the room and slipped on his black leather jacket, taken two U.N.C.L.E. standard guns, and he now faced his two colleagues. “I know that Mr. Waverly told us that we were here to watch, but there are innocents in this bank. Whatever is happening here needs to be stopped. You with me?”

Illya took his headphones off. “No. It is dangerous, not for us but for the people inside. We should let the police deal with it. Besides, they have shown no sign of violence for now, they do not look like professionals. And as Gaby says, we do not know–”

Gaby nodded. “We do not know what our presence could trigger. Even if they are real robbers and not some plan, we never know how they can react to an unexpected presence.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” answered Napoleon. He was checking his pockets, too close to the door to both Illya and Gaby’s tastes.

“Think about the mission!” said Illya, a last attempt at trying to stop him. “It will be finished in ten minutes, this kind of robbery happens every day. Is it worth our cover?”

Napoleon did not answer. He gave them a long look and left the hotel room, slamming the door behind him, and Gaby put a hand on Illya’s shoulder.

“Keep listening. I’ll watch.”

Illya nodded, uneasy. If Napoleon went there, the rules changed.

So many rules changed. Anything could happen, bad or good, their cover could blow up at any moment, and Napoleon’s very life was now on the line. Gaby understood why Illya had been so virulent, trying to prevent Napoleon from going. Even if the beginning of their relationship had been difficult to say the least, with fights, insults, low blows and prejudice, they had grown to like each other over time. Gaby was satisfied with the turn their relationship had taken, since she had had a major influence over it. Pushing one against the other until it worked. Until they accepted each other, taking the first steps of a wary friendship that bloomed quickly into something else in front of Gaby’s eyes.

She understood then, why Illya was cross at Napoleon’s kind of ruthless attitude. It was his way of showing he cared, his way of worrying. Illya was not very good at expressing his feelings, he never had been. For him, it was often easier to instigate a conflict when he only wanted to say ‘I care’, ‘I care about you’. Napoleon was no better, when Gaby thought about it. He was no better, and today even worse, leaping like this in the arms of danger.

Putting an end to her musings, Gaby looked through the window, just in time to see Napoleon cross the street and disappear behind the bank.

“He plans on using the back entrance. Clever.”

“No. He is stupid.”

Gaby turned around. She too was not happy by Napoleon’s white-knighting, but he was good. She locked eyes with Illya. He was worried; she smiled to reassure him. There was nothing they could do for now, well nothing else than following him. Illya went back to listening whatwas happening in the bank, and Gaby sat back on the bed. She wondered, maybe she should have followed Napoleon. Maybe not. There were innocent victims in the bank, but the stakes were high. If those robbers were indeed amateurs… besides there was the mission. But they were here to help people…

Minutes passed by, long, so long. Gaby was now nearly sure that she made a bad decision. She should have followed Napoleon. Illya, on the other hand, kept listening, his face set in a cold mask. A mask that Gaby knew how to read. The tell-tale mask of worry. He too, must have been regretting his decision. Yet Gaby knew him, and he would never admit it. To make him admit that he had been wrong was even more difficult than him accepting his worrying and caring for Napoleon. He was proud, too proud.

Speaking of pride, what would Napoleon do, if he succeeded?  _Brag._

Yet, what would happen, if he failed? _It is better not to think about it, it is better not to–_

A shot rang. Everybody in the street heard it, Gaby jumped from the bed and watched through the binoculars. Illya was white as a sheet. Gaby saw the policemen move towards the bank’s entrance, then hesitate, pointing their rifles at the door.

“God what happened?! Illya?”

The worst scenarios possible were playing in Gaby’s mind. Napoleon was already in the bank. Anything could have happened. If he had taken one of the robbers by surprise… Gaby could see blood in her mind. Blood everywhere. She had to get herself together. Maybe, just maybe, it was Napoleon who had shot a robber. Not the other way around. Maybe…

“One of the robbers took fright upon seeing Napoleon.” Illya’s voice betrayed no emotion, he was hiding them, trying to prevent them from bubbling up to the surface. False security. Gaby, on the other hand, did not even try to hide the fear in her voice.

“Oh no… don’t tell me that–”

“He is alive I think. There is a lot of noise, people screaming, the robbers are shouting… asking for silence–”

Another shot rang. Still nothing could be seen from the outside. Gaby had more and more troubles staying calm. This time, Illya’s voice betrayed his anger.

“The bugs are too far away! I cannot hear clearly what is happening in the main hall!” He turned buttons on the radio, trying to get a better signal. Beside him, Gaby tried not to fidget. It was unbearable not knowing. Everything could have happened.

Suddenly, Illya took off his headphones and threw them away. “It’s no good! No fucking good at all!”

Gaby hesitated to go comfort him, then decided to take the headphones and put them on the radio. Getting angry was not the solution.

Yet, as their luck would have it, the solution came on its own. It came from a voice inside the bank, speaking with a loudspeaker.

“I suppose all of you cops heard the shots. We had not planned to kill anyone today, do not worry. Your man is still alive.” Both Illya and Gaby dared to breathe. If they were speaking about Napoleon… they had to be speaking about Napoleon. “It was smart, sending one of you in to get us. But we’re smarter, huh.” Yes, they were speaking about him. “You should not have done that. Nobody would have gotten hurt. Now, you have ten minutes to disappear, we want a clear road out of the city. If it is not done, we blow his head off.” The man speaking then stayed silent for a few seconds, letting the information sink in. “Then it will be the clients. What do you say?”

Fuck. Gaby heard Illya swear under his breath in Russian. In the street, Gaby saw the policemen talk, she could not decipher their words but it seemed that the situation was slipping out of their control. The robbers wanted to kill Napoleon, _but maybe they are not serious, what can we do?_ Gaby’s brain was drowning in information, trying to weave it into plausible theories. A thought struck her, she said out of the blue:

“They have no idea who Napoleon is.”

“Of course,” answered Illya, his voice strained. “How on Earth would they know who he–”

“No, no! The cops I mean. They don’t know who Napoleon is. They sent no one inside, so they cannot…” She began pacing the room. “He does not exist for them. Therefore they must think the robbers are bluffing! It doesn’t look good Illya, not at all!”

“Why would they think he’s bluffing?” asked Illya. “He sounded convincing enough for a petty criminal.”

“Try to put yourself in their shoes. Napoleon doesn’t exist for them, so they logically think that the robbers are throwing empty threats. Which means they’re not going to do anything!”

Gaby saw Illya think. He was beginning to get the full picture, to understand the risks. He said:

“But if they do nothing… Napoleon must find a way to escape in ten minutes!”

Gaby nodded. For one second, the worry had taken over Illya’s voice, and Gaby took advantage of it to say what she had been thinking about earlier:

“So we should help him. Maybe we should have done so since the beginning.”

Illya’s eyes hardened. He looked at the radio and grumbled:

“He can manage very well on his own.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Gaby. She had not thought Illya would say this. Not at all.

Illya did not answer. There was nothing happening in the street, and so Gaby walked to where Illya was sitting and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her. She saw there the same worry that she had heard earlier. Illya cared a lot under his grumpiness. All she had to do was pressing the right buttons until he accepted to help Napoleon. It might take time, and time was exactly what they did not have right now.

“It’s not so much that I don’t trust him. He is intelligent, and he may manage to get away on his own.” She looked deep into Illya’s eyes. “What I want to know is: do you want to help him?”

“He has no one to blame for the shit he’s in but himself.”

“Illya… that is not the question I asked.”

“No.” No, no what? No he did not want to help? Gaby sighed, and said:

“You know him. He cares for us, hell, you of all people should know this better than anyone! He never wanted to worry us, he went there because he is a good man. To protect people. This is why you like him.” Illya lowered his eyes. She was getting there, her arguments were hitting home. Just a few more seconds... “We did not want to intervene, but now let’s face the facts. We have to help him.”

“But what about our cover? What if this robbery was just a set up?” Illya asked.

Gaby wondered how long they had left. Eight minutes maybe, seven at worst? She answered:

“Is he worth our cover?” It was a rhetorical question, and Gaby already knew what Illya’s answer would be. He cared.

 “Fuck the cover.” Illya’s voice was angry again, and he got up from his chair. He looked at his watch. “We have seven minutes…” He sighed in defeat. “What do we do? What _can_ we do?”

Gaby smiled, victorious. Seven minutes was not much. They could do it, they were the best. She had no plan, no real answer to Illya’s question, but she tried to come up with something as she answered: “You follow his path. Go in the bank through the back, don’t make the same mistake as Napoleon, whatever it was.”

“What about you?” asked Illya.

“Me?” Gaby shrugged as if it was obvious. “I’ll do what we should have done since the beginning: tell the police who we are, what we saw, and that it is our man inside.”

Illya nodded, “all right”, and they geared up, putting on their jackets and taking guns. Gaby noticed that Illya was putting sleep darts in his weapons instead of real bullets. Ever the gentleman.

“Mr. Waverly won’t be happy,” Illya said matter-of-factly as they left the room.

“That’s for sure!” answered Gaby.

She looked closer at Illya, his face set in an angry scowl. Ready for action, for business. Gaby did not exactly know who was the target of Illya’s anger. It was burning in his eyes, through his words, dangerous. Enemies beware.

Climbing down the stairs, she made a quick list.

The robbers. Everything was their fault, period. He was right to be angry at them.

Napoleon. Illya was angry at Napoleon for acting like a fool, for putting other people’s security before his own. Illya was angry at Napoleon for making him worry.

Himself. Of course, he was angry at himself, for not following Napoleon, not preventing him from going there, for the thousand things Illya surely wished he had said to him.

Their relationship was too complicated for their own good.

Once out in the street, Gaby and Illya exchanged a knowing look. Gaby whispered a silent ‘good luck’ to Illya as he disappeared into the same street than Napoleon. She looked at him until she could not see him anymore, then walked in the direction of the bank. Her heels clicking on the pavement, she put her hand in her pocket, fishing her U.N.C.L.E. ID. It would be useful. From the inside of the bank, the man with the loudspeaker spoke again.

“I see you have done nothing. There is only five minutes left, and we won’t come back on our word. You should hurry.”

Gaby tensed up. Illya had better hurry indeed. She had faith in him.

Eventually, Gaby came into view of the policemen. One of them tried to block her path, but she flashed her ID.

“Gaby Teller, United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, I need to speak with your boss.”

Cover? Blown. With flashing colours.

The policeman looked quizzically at her ID, then at her face, and she had to add “Could you hurry please?” for him to scurry away. Gaby tapped her foot against the floor impatiently.

The policeman came back a few seconds later with a tired-looking, older policeman who wore the insignias of a lieutenant. He spoke as soon as he saw Gaby.

“I am sorry Miss, but you cannot come here, there is a–”

“Sorry, but as I said to your man, I am here on behalf of U.N.C.L.E. Have you heard of us?”

The lieutenant blinked, then looked at the ID card Gaby had just given him. He seemed satisfied, because he said, his tone apologetic:

“Yes, I have heard of you U.N.C.L.E. people. I am sorry. I suppose you have a reason to be here, how can I be of assistance?”

Gaby smiled. Well, this one was not too stupid, which was a good point. She decided to be honest.

“Two colleagues and I were watching the bank earlier. I cannot tell you why, but we had to. The problem is, when the robbery happened, one of us was inside. We have reason to believe that he has been mistaken by the criminals for one of your men.”

“That would explain why they said they were holding one of our men hostage! We thought they were only amateurs bluffing…”

Why did Gaby have to be right? She hoped there was enough time left. “Well, my second colleague is inside, trying to free him before the end of the countdown. There is a back entrance to the bank one can use to go inside. Maybe he’ll need help.”

The lieutenant slowly nodded. Gaby could see that he was not pleased at all with how the situation was unfolding, but there was nothing he could do. He knew that.

“I can… Well Miss I hope you are right. I can ask a few of my men to follow your lead.”

Gaby nearly answered ‘thank God’, but instead said “Hurry please.”

The lieutenant nodded and called one of his subordinates. They talked in hushed tones for a few seconds, and then the man called a few others. The lieutenant said:

“Show them the way.”

Gaby obliged, and she walked with the policemen to the back entrance. She showed them the door, and explained in a few quick words how to go to the main hall. Illya would not appreciate the help, but it was necessary. Once they had gone in, Gaby went back to the main entrance, and she remained with the policemen.

The robber with the loudspeaker shouted “Three minutes!”

Gaby was more and more worried. She trusted Illya more than she did the cops, everything would end up all right. Unconsciously, she began biting her nails.

“Two minutes!”

If they managed to get away unscathed, Gaby hoped that she would get at least an apology from Napoleon, and she hoped too that it would have helped Illya and Napoleon take a step further into their relationship. Saving lives usually helped.

Suddenly, a series of shots, and shouts, and more shots echoed through the bank. The sound was deafening, and the majority of the policemen charged inside at an order of the lieutenant.

_Please, let them be all right. Let Napoleon be safe._

Gaby closed her eyes. She tried not to listen to the sounds outside, until she heard a well-known voice, very much alive.

Amidst the poor, shocked civilians, Napoleon was walking. “I had the situation under control,” he asserted. He was straightening his jacket, aware of the policemen, of the innocent people, of all the eyes watching him. Trying to keep his mask up. All the eyes watching him. He turned towards Illya, who was a few steps behind him, and smiled. Genuine, from ear to ear, painfully genuine. He smiled and took a step forward, closer to Illya. “But thank you nonetheless.”

Gaby was relieved beyond words. What a pair of fools, these two! Each one more proud than the other, each one trying to have the upper hand, the last word, always worrying sick for the other. Breaking the line of policemen, Gaby ran to them and hugged them both. She wanted to slap Napoleon, but she would not do so in public. His pride was hurt enough right now. She whispered into Illya’s ear: “You’re the best.” He smiled in answer.

The three of them looked at the other people leaving the bank, looking as though they were waking up from a dream. The police was taking a good care of them. The robbers were captive, everything would be all right now. With a nod to the police lieutenant, Gaby gestured to her two colleagues and the three agents slipped away.

They went back to their hotel room to pack up the material, not talking.

Gaby could see that Illya and Napoleon were constantly looking at each other, warily, angrily, apologetically…

“I am going to call Mr. Waverly,” said Gaby, leaving them alone in the room. They needed some time alone to talk, or maybe not talk… Illya needed to be alone with Napoleon to tell him how worried he had been, and Napoleon needed to be alone with Illya to admit he had been wrong, to admit he had been afraid, to say he was sorry.

Gaby dialled the U.N.C.L.E.’s HQ, and scheduled a debriefing with Mr. Waverly. He did not sound happy, and asked them to meet him that very day. Gaby told him the bare facts in a few minutes, and then went back to the room to tell Napoleon and Illya about the meeting with Mr. Waverly. She hesitated a few seconds before opening the door, but found them simply packing the radio. Napoleon smiled brightly at her. He said:

“Illya told me you were the one who convinced him to save me! Tell me how I can thank you?”

In a few quick strides, Gaby was chest to chest with him, pointing an accusation finger at his nose: “Stop playing the fool, for once!” She had said this trying to look menacing, but her smile betrayed her. “You had us worried. So worried…”

“Illya told me.” Gaby heard Illya growl in the background. “I must admit I was quite afraid the cops would not do anything… I was too confident in the bank, or maybe they were smarter than I believed.”

They went on talking during the car ride to the HQ. Everything had ended well, and it was the only thing that really mattered.

* * *

Mr. Waverly was indeed not happy, and it was very clear during the mission debrief. They had not managed to collect the information they were supposed to find, and it was better not to speak of their cover. U.N.C.L.E. would have to think of another strategy if they wanted to find anything concerning this bank and the possible embezzlement. Yet, Mr. Waverly let his agents go without a word. He supposed that they had learned their lesson for the moment. Napoleon must have been afraid enough to learn some kind of modesty for the next two weeks, Illya must have understood some need for more teamwork. Those two… If it had not been for Gaby…

In the corridor, the three agents were not thinking about any lessons learned at all. Illya, Napoleon and Gaby were too happy to leave work early, too happy that this mission that should have been god-damn simple had finally ended well.

Illya had an arm draped over Napoleon’s shoulders, an unconscious caring gesture.

“You know what, after everything that happened, we need ice-cream!” Gaby’s cheerful voice echoed down the corridor. “You’re buying Napoleon, since it’s your fault!”

“My fault? If you had followed me at the beginning, nothing would have–”

Illya jabbed him in the ribs, taking care not to use all his strength.

“She says you’re buying, so you’re buying.”

“How could I refuse you… asked so nicely…” Napoleon tried to catch his breath, his ribs painful, but he was laughing at the same time. Gaby too was laughing, her boys were cute. They were a handful, they were deadly and together the three of them were the very best team, but for her, they would only be cute boys who she had to take care of. She sorely needed the ice-cream right now. Between keeping them alive and trying to bring them ever closer, she needed sugar.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked this fic, and that it fulfilled your request correctly. :D


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